Shattered Reflections
by BloodRaevynn
Summary: Ken's POV, very heavy on the angst, suicidal thoughts, (amazingly) non-yaoi. Be nice, this is my first Digific. [Prequel to 'Trust and Kindness']


Well, I fired my muse; my new one, Cyra, appears to be working out okay. The first thing Cyra did when she showed up was insult me (she said that I'd watched one too many episodes of CCS [I'd watched five of them]; to be honest, she was right, my mind was running around like Kero-chan), and then she refused to tell me her name for a week.  
  
So this is dark, contains suicidal and homicidal thoughts, and not a single hint at Shounen Ai (I considered it, but it would have distracted from the point).  
  
  
  
Shattered Reflections  
  
The reflection in the mirror stares back at me impassively.  
  
'Who are you?' I ask, in my mind. 'What is going on in that mind of yours?'  
  
My gaze turns to my hands; hands that have dealt pain, suffering, and fear. Sometimes I feel as if they should be stained red with blood.  
  
'But how can that be? I haven't killed! Nothing that happens in the Digital World is real!' Yet I cannot deny that I have caused real pain. Those Digidestined...  
  
'They don't understand!!!' I watch my hands clench into fists, nails biting into, but not breaking, the skin. 'I need the Digital World! I need the catharsis it offers! I must release these urges somewhere where no one will get hurt, or...'  
  
I remember...that girl...  
  
It was a year after Osamu died; I wasn't yet known as a genius, though my teachers were beginning to suspect my potential.  
  
I don't even remember her name, if I ever knew it; I only vaguely recall what she looked like. She went to the same school as me, but she was a grade lower. That girl had been following me around at school lately, and one day, after school she came over.  
  
I was in the early planning stages of my takeover of the Digital World, and I was trying to work out some minor detail or another that had been plaguing me; but that girl would not shut up! Her incessant prattling grated on my nerves and prevented any concentration.  
  
Then I snapped...  
  
I went cold inside...  
  
I stood and stalked over to stand in front of her, she was sitting on my bed, and I seized her by her hair. I pulled her from the bed and threw her on the floor; she landed on her side, facing away from me. And then I kicked her...right in the spine.  
  
She wasn't badly hurt, I hadn't kicked her that hard; but only because I lacked the strength and knowledge of how to apply force that I now possess. If I did such a thing now, to one of those Digidestined, they would be killed or crippled.  
  
'They should stay away, for their own good!'  
  
'I'm too dangerous to be allowed near other human beings.'  
  
I turn and walk out of the bathroom, to the kitchen.  
  
I take a knife from the drawer and stare at it.  
  
'The easy way out?'  
  
I don't like pain.  
  
I touch the blade lightly to my wrist, envisioning the blood spilling from my body, pooling on the linoleum; maybe it will stain.  
  
I trace the blue veins with the tip of the knife, thoughtfully.  
  
"Don't think I won't!" I shout at the empty room. "You've never given me any proof you exist, so why should I believe in hell either!?! Besides, if you wanted me to live, you could just make someone walk through that door right now!!!" I wait long enough to verify that that isn't going to happen. "See? Anyway, who will care!?!"  
  
I think of the Digidestined. Since they now know who I am, they will know who it was that died when they see it on the news. Of course they'll be glad that their enemy is gone. My "fans" will find someone else to worship. My parents...  
  
...They...  
  
...No...I'm not stupid enough to think that they don't care. Even if it's only for the image they've projected onto me; the perfect son, who doesn't exist.  
  
But even though I've tried to push them away, I still feel some bond to the people who gave me life; no matter how much I hate it. How would my mother react to finding me dead in my own blood on the kitchen floor? To finding that I took my own life?  
  
...Guilt...  
  
Even though I hate myself, and my life, and their expectations of me, I can't do this to them.  
  
I angrily throw the knife back in the drawer and slam it shut...Again...  
  
What is it in me that is so reluctant to hurt them, even though I hunger for the pain of others?  
  
But I'm still dangerous.  
  
I can't stay here. It would be best if I stay in the Digital World, so that I can exorcise my sick desires without hurting anyone. My parents will hope that I will come back, and maybe I will.  
  
I walk back to the bathroom to take a shower.  
  
Before I undress, I look into the mirror again.  
  
Vaguely, I think about putting my fist through the glass...  
  
...But I don't. 


End file.
